


come morning light

by jamesniall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Niall, the other boys are just barely mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 00:43:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4159131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesniall/pseuds/jamesniall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry’s hand is warm against Niall’s misty, hot skin, it makes him shudder but he leans into the touch anyways. “I’m okay,” he says, even though it’s a blatant lie and Harry shakes his head at him.</p>
<p>Before he can insist that he is in fact okay to make Harry stop fretting over him, he coughs again, face crumpling in discomfort as his ragged breathing gets choked up again.</p>
<p>Or, Niall comes down with a chest infection and Harry is there to provide the comfort and caring Niall needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	come morning light

**Author's Note:**

> let's just say i love writing Niall centric hurt/comfort fics and a couple of friends asked me to write and post this, so, here it goes, hope you like it and pls let me know what you think! <3

Niall starts feeling clammy in the flight from Barcelona to Denmark. First he blames it on a hangover, the party with Alfredo and his mates lasted until about three in the morning and there was a good amount of booze being exchanged, even though he made sure to not get too drunk due to the fact they have a show to do later in the night, he still didn’t deny a pint.

It’s just past ten in the morning, he has enough time to get to the hotel and sleep his headache away until he meets the lads in the stadium. But it’s not until he gets off the plane that he feels it’s not just a hangover what’s making him feel kind of breathless and almost dizzy. He coughs in the back of his hand a couple times, clears his throat as hard as he can and he’s hit by a tingly feeling deep inside his chest, like when he works too hard at the gym with Mark and he knows he’s bound to take a rest, except this time the only thing he did was walking a couple meters till he reached the car that was taking him to the hotel.

It happens a couple more times inside the car, the urge to cough makes his chest hurt a little, his headache intensifying when he lets it go and coughs in his fist.

Bas is looking at him funny now, and Niall knows the _“are you comin’ down with something?”_ question won’t make itself wait.

 “I’m fine,” Niall says before Basil even asks, “probably the weather is messing me up, it’s fucking freezing.”

Basil nods, helps him with his bags while Niall asks the receptionist where his assigned room is. The hotel looks busy at this time of the day, a good amount people coming in and out of the elevators and Niall doesn’t feel like going through that, not right now, not when his head’s still throbbing and his throat itches to cough again.

“Let’s take the stairs, yeah?” Bas says from beside him, pressing the palm of his hand to Niall’s neck and squeezing, “not like your bags are heavy, and it’s only five floors up.”

Niall nods, doesn’t trust himself to not cough if he opens his mouth to speak.

He’s breathing way too fast after reaching the fourth floor, his heart feels like is going to leap out of his chest and his cough only gets worst the more he pushes himself to breathe.

It’s definitely not a hangover, that’s for sure. He’s sweating, he can feel it under the thin stripped t-shirt he’s wearing, even though his teeth are chattering and the cold in the Danish air is kind of suffocating him.

“Niall? Are you sure you’re alright, buddy?” Basil asks, going down the couple of steps he was ahead of him and drops Niall’s bag beside him. He rubs Niall’s back as another coughing fit rattles him from the inside. Niall feels so tired all of a sudden. Exhausted. He deflates when he feels like the coughing finally stopped and bends down a bit, supporting his shaking body with his hands on his knees and his butt against the railing as he tries to get his breathing back to normal.

“Cut the bullshit, Nialler, how are you feeling?” Basil asks, guiding him with a strong hand on his back the remaining steps until they get to the fifth floor and too Niall’s room.

“I- I was good, this morning, woke up with a headache and kinda just achey all over but, just, thought it was a hangover, you know.” He coughs again, hisses when his chest feels too tight and he presses down the palm of his hand to maybe easy it a little, “but just, like, on the airport I started feeling hot but I was like shivering and you know the rest, just started coughing here and there and now it’s unstop—“ a cough interrupts him, quite again, and it’s starting to genuinely worry him.

If it’s a cold, it wouldn’t be new, a runny nose and sneezing and coughing, all of them have gone through that during tour. But his shortening breaths and tightness deep in his chest along with the terrifying frantic coughing tells him doing a show in this condition will be a pure torture.

“C’mon, lay down a bit and cover up, I’ll call the doctor to see if he can see you before the show,” Basil says, helping him putting away his shoes, “he’ll give you something to lay off the coughing so you can perform tonight, for now just rest, I’ll wake you up later.”

Niall groggily thanks him, he snuggles under the covers, feels like the warmth is already enough to cure him until he has to turn over his side to cough again. He mumbles out a couple of cuss words, listens half-heartedly to Bas telling his symptoms to the doctor and after just a couple of minutes, he blissfully falls asleep.

 

-

 

His wake up is not as pleasant. It’s probably the fever causing him nightmares, he’s struggled with that since he was a kid and his da woke him up with soothing words and a cuddle. Now, though, he’s alone in a scratchy bed, an incessant pounding in his head and the inevitable itch in the back of his throat assuring him he’s going to cough whether he wants it or not. The warmth inside the blankets feels like it’s crowding him too much even though his muscles are spasming as if he’s cold. In the dream he was running, god knows away from what, but when he leaps out of bed with a start he’s already breathless, the panic from the nightmare and his sickness making it impossible to get his breath back to normal before he starts coughing again.

It’s more intense than back in the stairs. He hacks in his fist loudly, rough, it sounds terrible in his ears. His other hand is massaging his chest forcefully, trying to get the deep ache off. He quickly realizes it’s not working.

His fingers are shaking when he pushes the duvet and the blankets off his overheated but shivering body, he sits in the edge at the side of the bed and hunches down on himself, trying to catch his breath in between coughs. It’s painful, he can’t remember feeling a pain so deep and unrelenting as this one, each cough making him whimper, tears slowly filling his eyes. He’s clutching the sheets by his side with one hand, the other screwed up in a fist as he pats it against his chest in an effort to just _stop coughing._

It takes him about five minutes, even though he’s felt them as hours, to realize the coughing is dying down again, sniffles and wheezes leaving his parted, pale lips, as he struggles to calm back down. His whole body is quivering, little hiccups making his chest jolt up again in pain.

Someone opens the door in that moment, it’s not only Basil this time, he can tell that even though his sight is blurry, the sounds of more than just one pair of feet managing to spike up his headache.

“Niall,” someone says close to him, the voice is familiar and the body is warm, they’re bent down in front of him, a hand squeezes his in comfort as the other unclenches Niall’s fingers from the tight grip he had of his own t-shirt, against his chest, and starts rubbing it softly, shushing his pants and alleviating the anxiety that his uneven breathing was giving him.

“Niall, Ni, open your eyes, you’re alright,” It’s Harry, Niall’s fuzzy mind supplies, it makes Niall open his eyes right away, finding Harry’s face scrunched up in concern and pure worry but also a tad of reassurance shines in his eyes. Niall smiles despite his still shallow breathing and whispers out a raspy _hi_. Harry beams at him, eyes turning soft and forehead finally relaxing. He lifts his hand up to Niall’s face and wipes away the stray tears that managed to flow out.

Harry’s hand is warm against Niall’s misty, hot skin, and he shudders but leans into the touch anyways. “I’m okay,” he says, even though it’s a blatant lie and Harry shakes his head at him.

Before he can insist that he is in fact okay to make Harry stop fretting over him, he coughs again, face crumpling in discomfort as his ragged breathing gets choked up again.

Thankfully, it vanishes quickly, not a coughing fit again, and he smiles down to Harry again. It’s been less than three days since they saw each other last, but still, he’s missed him. Sent him the double amount of pics he posted on Instagram of Alfredo’s birthday bash, and thrice the amount of texts as the night progressed, first with kissy, laughing and beer emojis and around four a.m., when he was already in bed with a couple pints making his head swim it changed to _I rly missed u tonite, shoulda come w me,_ and a pathetic mix of sad emojis, broken hearts and a couple thumbs down.

“Thought I would see you at the stadium, wasn’t your flight after midday?” Niall asks out of curiosity, scooting backwards on the bed to let Harry sit beside him.

“It’s already midday, babe. Past midday actually, it’s almost two.” Harry says with an amused smile, “I called Basil to ask of your whereabouts because you wouldn’t answer your phone and he told me you were sick,” Harry says, stretching out an arm and pushing Niall gently until he’s huddled against his side. “I told him it was best to let you sleep it off and see the doctor later but, I didn’t thought it was this bad, doesn’t seem like just the flu.”

Niall nods, pressing himself closer to Harry’s warmth, “Yeah, I just can’t seem to stop coughing, my chest, like, hurts, in a weird way, like there’s something heavy on top of me, I don’t know,” he tries to explain, “Just want it to stop, honestly.”

“You need to tell that to the doctor, he’s just outside with Bas. Need you at your best, don’t we?”

Niall nods and coughs, the pain is kind of radiating to his back now, somewhere in between his ribs and his spine, it makes him want to cry but he doesn’t have the energy for that, it seems, every coughing fit drains him even more, makes the burning ache in his chest worst. The effort he’s making to keep his breathing somewhat okay is not enough to feel like there’s oxygen actually reaching his lungs and it just makes him fret even more, he sits up straight, breaking the contact with Harry’s body and feeling how his damp, trembling body quakes in distress.

“Niall, babe, hey, you’re okay, yeah? You’re going to be alright, we’ll get you in the comfiest clothes and give you the best medicine and you’ll be able to rest and breathe and you’ll be alright, okay? Are you listening?” Harry’s voice is calm despite how he grimaces every time Niall wheezes and clutches his chest in pain.

The door opens again, it makes Harry jump in surprise but Niall thinks he hears him breathe out a sigh in relief afterwards, and suddenly, without any kind of warning there’s something pressing at his lips, hard and cold and kind of familiar but Niall is too far gone to figure out what it is.

“Ni, it’s an inhaler, it’s okay. We need you to take a deep breath, as much as you can, yeah? It’ll make you feel better, love,” Harry says, and Niall does as he’s told, he opens his mouth slightly and tries to inhale deeply, even though it makes him feel like he’s breathing in dust, or powder, it makes the itch to cough worst but right in that moment a puff from the inhaler comes and that reduces the horrendous itch just a bit, and, bless him, two puffs after he’s not coughing anymore.

It doesn’t help with the ache, nor with the wild thumping of his heart, but breathing gets easier as the coughing fit fades away. The doctor and Harry coach him through the same breathing exercises he does when he’s feeling anxious, he feels his lungs finally stretching to let some needed air in, and a couple seconds after he breaths it out.

He gets prescribed that inhaler, for a week, even though he should start feeling better before that. Some antibiotics and painkillers along with lots of rest, sleep and water will be more than enough for him to recover in a couple days.

“Will he be good to perform tonight, then?” Harry asks from beside him.

“If he feels up for it, I don’t think it’ll put him in any danger. Three puffs before the show and he’ll be good for about four to six hours, depends on how much he moves around.” The doctor explains, “I’ve known you to be quite energetic out there so for now, I’d recommend you to take it easy. It’s cold, freezing more like, and that could set off coughing even with your prescription, but if you don’t jump or run I think you’ll be alright,” he says, “wear anything but those tanks you often use, okay Mr Horan? The best for you would be to rest it up today and keep from performing but you won’t do it even if I tie you to the bed, so I can just tell you to be careful and to not push yourself too much, I wish you a speedy recovery, Mr Horan.”

Niall smiles kindly at him, thanks him a couple more than three times and watches as Harry asks him more questions by the door, but he’s too sleepy to bother to listen, he’s finally getting warm, finally able to take a breath without feeling he’s choking back coughs, that, along with the fact that it’s just past three p.m. meaning he still has a couple hours to sleep and recharge before the show, sooths him enough for him to fall deeply asleep.

 

-

 

He’s gently shaken awake by Harry a few hours after, surprised by the fact it wasn’t a restless sleep and he actually feels good to do the show, despite the circumstances.

Harry checks his temperature and gives him water along with his antibiotics before helping him put on some sweatpants and a hoodie to go to the stadium. It’s almost 7:30 in the night and they have fans to meet from Rays of Sunshine before the show. Harry and Niall are going to be undoubtedly late, but they trust Louis and Liam will cover for them until they get there, it’s for Niall’s sake after all, they agreed to let him sleep as much as he could before the show.

When they get there Lou and Caroline are quick to fix Niall’s messy, bed hair and clothing, making sure he at least has a long sleeved tee to wear, the cold is merciless in Denmark, it seems, and Niall, despite taking dutifully his medicine, is still coughing here and there, not as much as back in the hotel, and there’s been zero coughing fits so far, but Caroline promises to look for hoodies and jackets afterwards and to make sure someone gives them to Niall if needed.

The crew backstage tells them there’ll be warm tea ready for any of them, and the catering ladies, who love Niall very much, tell Niall they’ll add a drop of cough syrup in his cups to help him through the concert.

After the make-up is done and Niall is all dressed up he doesn’t even look sick. And Harry tells him so, Niall blushes and pushes him away when he tries to kiss him.

“Don’t want to get you sick, Haz.”

Harry makes a show of whining and groaning, throwing a fake, over exaggerated tantrum until Niall says, “you know, there’s other parts you can kiss too, doesn’t have to be my lips.”

And Harry goes for his forehead, nose, cheeks, chin and every inch of skin he can reach until Niall’s giggling ends up in a cough. Harry gives him a disapproving look which only makes him look constipated in Niall’s opinion.

At the end of the day, Niall absolutely smashes it.

He kills every note and is as fun and lovely with the crowd as usual. The boys are all over him every passing second, making him laugh and smile, or rubbing his back when they catch him shivering and frowning. Harry watching him with a hawk eye when Niall bends down to cough away from his mic.

Niall assures him afterwards, nods an _I’m okay_ at him every time it looks like Harry is ready to scoop him up in his arms and take him back to bed. He makes it to the end of the show without coughing fits, which was his biggest worry, and even though he feels as drained as he probably looks, he always ends up enjoying himself with the roaring of the crowd and the support from his boys.

The exhaustion comes afterwards, in the car back to the hotel, when the adrenaline of performing winds down again and he feels how much it sucks to be sick in the middle of a world tour.

Harry and Liam convince him to take the elevator this time, and he agrees only because he wants to avoid a coughing fit out of physical exertion.

It’s exactly that what wakes him at a stupidly late or really early hour a couple of hours after going to bed, his breathing gets heavy and his chest tight before he starts coughing again, pressing his face down on his pillow in a vain attempt to not wake up Harry.

When it ends there are warm, long fingers playing with the his hair in the back of his head, as wheezes force their way painfully out of Niall’s chest, rattling his body. He’s clenched in a cold sweat again but Harry doesn’t seem to mind as he helps him sit up and rubs his back and Niall’s harsh breathing slowly gets back to a normal rate.

Harry sat himself up too, back against the frame of the bed and guiding Niall to sit in between his open legs, hands on his slumped shoulders helping him gently lie against Harry’s chest. He wrapped his arms around Niall’s small frame, feeling every wave of pain that just _breathing_ caused Niall. He held him through the short but deep coughs that lurched Niall’s body. He just held him, the rest of the night, until it was the time to some painkillers and three puffs of the inhaler and Niall was able to relax against Harry’s chest, Harry’s hand never stopping the soothing and gentle rubbing through Niall’s chest. It was quiet, dark and still cold despite the heat Niall was radiating, they fell asleep for too little until Niall woke up panting again, but despite the restless night and despite how much it hurt to just look at Niall’s red rimmed eyes, blotchy cheeks and pale, puckered lips shaking every time he inhales and exhales, Harry wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else. Whispered encouraging and calming words, cuddles and rest is what Niall says he needs, and that’s what Harry is willing to provide, and more.

**Author's Note:**

> im on [tumblr](jamesniall.tumblr.com) too, if you wanna go say hi or if you have any idea of a niall pairing fic and think i'd fit to write it<3


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